"Decidedly," said he, "his lordship must be viewed at closer quarters." And he led the way downstairs.
In the passage he waited for her to come up with him.

"You had best announce me by name," he suggested.

"It is Caryll." She nodded, and, going forward, threw open a door, inviting him to enter.
"Mr.Caryll," she announced, obedient to his injunction, and as he went in she closed the door behind him.
From the group of three that had been sitting about the polished walnut table, the tall gentleman in buff and silver rose swiftly, and advanced to the newcomer; what time Mr.Caryll made a rapid observation of this brother whom he was meeting under circumstances so odd and by a chance so peculiar.
He beheld a man of twenty-five, or perhaps a little more, tall and well made, if already inclining to heaviness, with a swarthy face, full-lipped, big-nosed, black-eyed, an obstinate chin, and a deplorable brow.

At sight, by instinct, he disliked his brother.

He wondered vaguely was Lord Rotherby in appearance at all like their common father; but beyond that he gave little thought to the tie that bound them.
Indeed, he has placed it upon record that, saving in such moments of high stress as followed in their later connection, he never could remember that they were the sons of the same parent.
"I thought," was Rotherby's greeting, a note almost of irritation in his voice, "that the woman said you were from France." It was an odd welcome, but its oddness at the moment went unheeded.